Curiosities of Middle Earth
by bluRaaven
Summary: This is a series of drabbles about things that have always amused or baffled me about the Hobbit and the LotR (for now it's mostly Hobbit). It's no crossover, but a collection of stories. There is no particular order to them and precious little sense, expect some weirdness, out-of-character behaviour, humour, the occasional fluffy moment and Monty Python! You have been warned.


How Bilbo's sword got its name and why Kíli and Fíli make fun of elven craftsmanship.

* * *

Had there ever been a hobbit as weary as Bilbo Baggins? _Probably not_, the Hobbit in question thought. He was tired, sore and hungry, which really went without saying. What had possessed him to join Gandalf in an adventure, of all things? He had already known that those were nasty and disturbing, uncomfortable things one should do well to avoid. And yet he had allowed himself to be talked into going, together with a group of thirteen dwarves and a wizard. So now here he was, lying on his bedroll, staring into the campfire and trying (unsuccessfully, I might add) to ignore the roots digging into his back.

But Bilbo was a Baggins and a Took, well, half of each, really, and thus he did not complain, suffering the hardships of the road in silence. At first the company had had ponies, but they had lost them and were now forced to walk on foot. Bilbo could not complain about that turn of events. He was used to walking, often taking long strolls through the Shire, but in no way could he be considered a horseman. Or rather a horsehobbit. After weeks in the saddle his poor behind had been so sore, he wholeheartedly welcomed a change. However, walking had its downsides, too and small as he was, Bilbo still had to lug around a big backpack, full of stuff that grew heavier by the day.

At least the company had gotten some rest in Rivendell, the home of Lord Elrond, the Half-elven. Now that had been something to behold. Rivendell! Bilbo's hobbit heart had rejoiced upon seeing the Valley of Imladris, beautiful as it was, full of music and laughter, of the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle murmurs of the brook that flowed through it. He had felt at peace there.

All too soon they had set out once more.

"One day", Bilbo had avowed silently, "One day I shall return here."

If he survived the rest of the journey, that was. After all, there was a dragon waiting for them in Erebor and Bofur had explained in great detail – _thank you very much for those mental images by the way, dear Bofur _– what dragons did to people: dwarves, hobbits, elves and men alike.

The other members of the company were all fighters; even Kíli, the youngest dwarf – and still way over twenty years older than poor Bilbo – was a trained warrior. The dwarves were armed with all sorts of weapons: they had bows, swords, axes and other things Bilbo could not name, but was fairly afraid of, because they all looked wickedly sharp and deadly.

The only thing Bilbo had was the elven blade Gandalf had given him. Although technically a dagger, Balin had assured the hobbit that it probably only qualified as a letter opener.

Undoubtedly, it was a beautiful _letter opener_, the blade sleek and thickening somewhat in the middle, with decorative etchings and a hilt made of a deep, reddish brown with embedded silver leaf patterns. Elves liked trees, so it stood to reason they should decorate everything with parts of them. Running his fingers lightly along the cool metal, Bilbo wondered how it could be that something so fine, so lovely would be crafted for such a cruel purpose.

He was so engrossed in studying the blade, mesmerized by watching the fire dace on its polished surface, the hobbit entirely forgot about the others. The heavy tread of footsteps ripped him out of his reverie and Bilbo nearly jumped a foot high when somebody unexpectedly plopped down next to him. Two somebodies.

"Have you thought of a name for it, yet?", Fíli asked.

"Balin says swords are named after the great deeds they do in battle.", Bilbo answered, somewhat timidly. Unlike some other dwarves, the brothers seemed to genuinely like him. They were cheerful and open hearted, loyal and courageous, though sometimes immature in behaviour. They also liked to play pranks on unsuspecting party members and it was that which made Bilbo slightly weary. They had already scared him half to death once with their talks about goblin raids.

Fíli pondered Bilbo's answer for a while. "I guess you could name it after a small deed, too."

"I'm sure it won't mind. It is a small blade, after all", Kíli threw in helpfully.

Fíli nodded his head affirmatively. Sometimes it was uncanny how those two talked and acted in unison, without arranging it beforehand.

"Oh, I've thought of one", Kíli suddenly exclaimed excitedly.

"Of what?", Bilbo asked, feeling slightly confused.

"A name", Fíli supplied. Turning to Kíli, he said "Go on, brother, let's hear it."

"Slasher", Kíli answered, proudly.

Fíli's brows furrowed. "I don't know. It does sound rather dramatic." He considered their problem for a moment. "How about Slitter?"

His brother burst out laughing. "That's not even a proper word!"

"You may be right", Fíli acquiesced with a silly grin. "Poke", he supplied next.

Kíli rolled his eyes. "Why not Papercut?"

"Oh, that's a nice one, brother."

"Thank you very much, Fíli."

"You're welcome."

Before the brothers could get any further, complimenting themselves on successfully finding a name for Bilbo's sword, the hobbit interrupted them.

"Now, that all sounds very nice, but since it's my sword, shouldn't I name it?"

Fíli sketched him a small bow. "As you wish, master Baggins." After weeks of pronouncing his name wrong, Bilbo had finally taught them the proper form.

His brother shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back, stretching out and looking up at the sky. The stars above twinkled like a sea of gems and except for the chirping of crickets everything was quiet for a while. Until a loud yelp broke the silence. Kíli suddenly shot upright, shouting 'Mahal!', and waving his arm around wildly.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow", he sang as Fíli looked on curiously.

"What's wrong with him", Bilbo squeaked, feeling panic rising in his chest, when Kíli started to blow on his hand.

"Nettles", Fíli replied with a wry grin, patting his little brother consolingly upon the shoulder.

"Outsch", Kíli moaned miserably. " It stings!"

"Sting", Bilbo suddenly cried out.

"That's what I said", Kíli huffed, his tone slightly annoyed.

"No, I'll name the sword Sting."

"Sting." Fíli let the name roll off his tongue. "It has a nice ring to it."

Kíli sulked. He had liked 'Papercut' better. "What's so special about elvish blades, anyway?", he asked after a while.

Bilbo was no expert, but he had overheard some conversations (not that he was eavesdropping, mind you!). "Well, let's see", he began "Gandalf said they do not rust, even though they are ancient..."

Kíli snorted loudly. Much quieter he added "So is Gandalf." The brothers had a spell of barely suppressed giggles while Bilbo worried whether the wizard would turn them all into toads if he overheard.

"Anyway", he continued "they do not dull as easily as other swords." That was about all he knew.

"Wait, wasn't there something more?", Fíli suddenly asked. Bilbo was lost in thought and so he missed _the look_ the brothers shared, Fíli giving Kíli a little nudge.

"Oh yes!" Of course, how could he have forgotten it!? Proudly Bilbo presented his sword – Sting – and added in a conspiratorial whisper "The blade glows blue when orcs are close."

Kíli's eyes lit up with an almost feral glint. "Aye. Thus allowing them to see you more easily in the dark."

Fíli had to extort every ounce of self control he had not to burst out laughing when he saw the Halfling cast a quick glance around him, as if expecting goblins to jump from behind Bombur's sleeping form. As one the brothers rose and oblivious to Bilbo's torment they wished him a 'good night', before they walked to where they would hold their night's watch.

When they were far enough away, Fíli finally could hold it in no longer and buried his face in his little brother's coat to stifle his chuckles. Kíli's broad grin was brighter than even the campfire, as he settled more comfortably, resting his head on Fíli's shoulder.

Over, at the other side of the camp, they could see Bilbo's shivering form hiding under the blankets. Tomorrow they would make it up to the Hobbit, but for now they both enjoyed the satisfaction that only came from pulling a successful prank.

* * *

AN: Goblins are creatures of the night, they fear and despise the sun; Mordor even has a volcano spewing ashes into the sky and thus darkening it. Against that foe the elves have made glowing blades. _Really_?

Just because somebody mentioned it: I made up an alternative to how Bilbo's sword got its name, because I did not want to retell what's already written in the Hobbit. And it's an excuse to bring in Fíli and Kíli =)


End file.
